Money's Worth
by LovinTheTan
Summary: Bakura is bored and boredom isnt something hes used to dealing with. Mischief ensues and poor Marik bears the brunt of the abuse. And how on earth does yen factor in?


**A/N: Yay!! The first fic on our account and Sunny claims its virgi - wait...am I allowed to say that? I mean, this IS a T rated fic....for now -grins evilly-**

**Just something I came up with when I was at Planet-kuns house. Inspired by something I was doing when we were just kinda sitting on her floor, bored....cant really go into details, spoilers you know XD All you need to know is Marik is the hikari one and Bakura shares an apartment (or a dorm) with him. Their relationship is dubious. Use thine imagination :3**

**But I want people to let me know if I should actually continue this. Ive had this part finished for months and havent uploaded it because I was planning to write smut. But seriously, Im lazy and probably never will unless people actually want me to.**

**Also, pwease let me know if I should write up a bunch of Bakuras Bored shorts. Planet-kun and I come up with lots of them. Aquariums, clocks, rock-climbing, you name it XDDD**

**So yeah. Feedback, please!!!**

**_Written by Sunny, Beta-ed by Planet  
Disclaimer: Sun-chan does no own any of the smexeh villains portrayed in this fic, though Ra only knows how much she wants to DX That honor belongs to Kazuki Takehashi - Isis smile upon him. _**

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Bakura was bored. It happened every now and then and generally didn't end well.

It was a Sunday afternoon and the apartment he shared with Marik was completely silent save for an occasional page turn from across the room.

Bakura refused to acknowledge the fact that Marik was refusing to acknowledge him. The blonde was lying on his back atop his bed, his head nearly hanging off the edge and his feet propped up against the opposite wall. In his hands was a magazine of some sort with an assortment of unexciting Things That Went. His lilac eyes skimmed the pages slowly, pausing every now and then to stare at an image longingly. Some of the pages he'd marked by folding in the upper corner.

There was absolutely nothing of spectacular interest there. The whole situation held no diversion whatsoever for the white-haired teen and he vaguely wondered how the other could possibly be so intrigued. Bakura honestly didn't care whether it was a car, a motorcycle, or a pair of shoes with wheels in them, as long as they took him from point A to point B. So the fact that anyone could stand to look through pictures of the different ways to do that was absolutely beyond him.

Bakura had taken to sighing sullenly about an hour ago. Now he was growling and rolling over on his bed to stare at various patches of wall for some form of entertainment.

He could go out. He knew this. But once outside, what on earth was he to do? Go to the park and throw little bits of bread , which would be more useful in his stomach, at the pathetic ducks that made their tiny insignificant homes there? No, it was much preferable to remain bored out of his mind in this miserable apartment with someone he could just barely put up with.

It annoyed him further that Marik was successfully paying the rumblings of discontent no heed Instead, the blonde seemed to be enjoying himself in a calm sort of way. Bakura had a slight urge to rip the magazine from his hands, tear it to shreds and throw it out the window before proceeding to throttle his roommate, but he was not in the mood to get up. Boredom leads to laziness and laziness adds to the boredom. Its a remarkably fun cycle that continues until the victim finally loses it. Joy. Well, at least he now knew how it was all going to end for him.

His umber gaze drifted to the table beside his bed and fell upon, among a plethora of other assorted things, a pile of loose change. Like most everything else there, he had no idea where in the world that many coins had come from or when he had put them there. However, he decided to turn over, after realizing with distaste that he had been laying in a position almost identical to Marik's, and ran his long slim fingers through the money. The clinking sounds they gave off as they brushed against each other was a nice change from the silence that had been penetrating his ear drums for what seemed like hours. He hoped the sound would bother Marik, too – anything to get him to feel as terrible as he did. As far as Bakura saw it, if he was going to suffer, he was going to drag his pathetic fool of a roommate down with him.

Nothing.

He began stacking the coins up so he could pick them up and drop them on one another. It was something to do with his hands, but it gave his poor brain nothing to work with. And that bloody blonde across the room was still giving him no reaction!

Still absentmindedly stacking and restacking the change, Bakura took to just as absentmindedly inspecting the other, who, he noted with a frown, was currently on page thirty of that same never-ending magazine about stupid vehicles!

Marik's bronzed stomach was gently rising and falling with each breath as the blonde turned another page slowly. Page 31. Seriously, Bakura didn't understand the Egyptian's sense of style. He himself wasn't exactly the connoisseur of how to dress because he honestly didn't care what he looked like, but he knew where the limits of "socially unacceptable and extremely noticeable" began. What the heck was that pink hooded t-shirt wannabe? Was it too small for him so it wasn't able to cover his midriff?

Most of the time when he wore this outfit, Marik wore the black shirt underneath it, so at least he wasn't exposing his stomach to the world like some teenage girl coming back from some midnight rounds with her college dropout boyfriend. That was slightly more tolerable. And Bakura knew it was a bit hotter today than it had been recently, but why take off just the black shirt? What on earth was the point in that? Marik had taken off the shirt and the undershirt and then put the pink shirt back on. Why couldn't he, like regular men just take his shirt off and run around like that?

It was a source of constant irritation to Bakura every time he saw his roommate dressing like that and the white-haired teen seriously considered bringing it up to at least stave off the waves of boredom still violently washing over him, but an argument wasn't really on the top of his list of things to do. It took way too much thinking.

His chocolate eyes caught sight of something else that held much more promise of entertainment. Because the blonde was lying flat, his stomach had flattened even more so and his hip bones jutted out underneath the edge of his pants. Because of this very slight change in the way the garment fit, there was a small gap between the material and his flesh and Bakura could, from the angle he was at, see a little ways in. He grinned maliciously.

_-thiefshippingthiefshippingthiefshipping-_

Something hit Marik in the nose, startling him so much he dropped the magazine on his face. He frantically picked it up and flipped his head around to see what had happened only to catch a glimpse of another projectile shooting towards him. It bounced off his midriff and landed next to him on the sheets. A ten yen piece?

Bakura took aim again and fired. Missed again.

"What the heck are you doing?!" Marik shot at him. Bakura was pleased to hear the hint of irritation in his voice.

"I'm bored," came the reply in Bakura's smooth accent. He tossed another coin. Another miss. Perhaps he should aim higher?

Marik scowled as a one yen coin hit the golden chain on his shirt. "Why does that have anything to do with throwing money at me, you fool?!" he yelled, his temper finally kicking in.

At this point, Bakura was far too engrossed in his new found past time to care what insults Marik might hurtle at him, and he simply said, in a very calm tone, "Just stop moving."

It seemed the blonde was feeling lazy, too because as suddenly as he had angered, he calmed down and responded, "Whatever," before returning to his magazine and ignoring the rain of yen being launched at him from across the tiny room.

This time, the white-haired teen was preoccupied and didn't notice or even care that Marik was discounting him again.

A clatter against the opposite wall. Nope, too high. A light _fwump_ against the side of the bed. Too low. An aggravated sigh from Marik. Close, but the goal wasn't the top of his skull.

Bakura idly let a coin run through his fingers and back as he devised a new tactic. This was proving more difficult than it had first appeared. But he _would_ succeed. The great King of Thieves never gave up. Perhaps if he chucked the piece as if skipping a stone? It was worth a shot…

With a flick of his slender wrist, he sent the coin flying – right through the gap on Marik's pants out of sight!

_Yes!_

Marik jerked and dropped the magazine again (page 34), this time on the floor. Something cold had just touched sensitive skin. He immediately regretted turning his back and allowing Bakura the freedom to throw things at him. Quickly, he sat up and turned around on his bed to face the white-haired menace staring triumphantly in the direction of his zipper.

The blonde was about to attack Bakura verbally when the other rose and made to walk away.

Bakura's day was complete. He had succeeded. Mission accomplished. And he was actually motivated to get on with his life again. Suddenly going to Burger World, chowing down on loads of cheap unhealthy food, then going off to the park to frighten small children sounded compelling. He stretched to his full height and reached over to the nightstand to get the 500 yen piece he had put there just yesterday.

Where was it?

He could remember having it his hand not too long ago. _Where_…chestnut colored eyes stared blankly at an empty hand…_is_…the pale fingers mimed fiddling with a coin…_it_? He looked directly at the confused Marik.

_Dammit_. He didn't mean to actually throw that one. Everything else had been ten and one yen – useless and unnecessary. He didn't care that he might not get those ones back. But 500 yen. That was a meal or two at Burger World, that was tea or coffee at Starbucks, that wasn't disposable. He had to get it back.

He decided on being polite first – or as polite as Bakura was capable of. "I need that back." He stuck out his hand expectantly.

Marik, on the other hand, was dumbfounded. He wanted it back!? After he had been tossing money incessantly at him for about a half hour, he wants one piece back? No! Two could play at that game. If Bakura was allowed to act like an annoying idiot for thirty minutes and really grate on the blonde's nerves the whole time, then it only followed that the blonde should be able to do his part to piss off his white haired roommate.

He donned his familiar smirk and leaned back into the wall, his arms crossed. "No," he replied haughtily. "You don't get your crappy money back."

Brown eyes narrowed menacingly. "That's my dinner money."

"So what? You threw it at me, and you're not getting it back."

Marik could see the other mentally switching gears and he felt uneasy. Those eyes always meant death, destruction, and a horrible headache in the morning.

Before he was given a chance to even guess at what was going to happen, Bakura said, with a strange undertone in his voice, "Then get me some food."

Yup, Marik was right. This wasn't going to go his way. It was a source of constant irritation for him. He had been around his roommate for a long enough period of time that he was beginning to recognize certain signs, but it _never_ prepared him for what the other had planned. Bakura was just always one step ahead of him.

Unsure of what else to respond with, and definitely not willing to bow down to the white-haired teen's wishes, he answered again, "No. Do it yourself."

"You mean after I put my money in, I still don't get any food or prize to speak of, and the vending machine isn't going to refund me?"

_Aha!_ That was it! Marik was so proud of himself. He had figured out Bakura's trick for what must have been the first time. His smirk widened. _Sorry, you fool, but likening me to an inanimate object shall do nothing to provoke me this time_. After all, he _did_ have a temper, and goodness knows he might have thrown a fit and played right into Bakura's hands if he hadn't been expecting something like this. This was going to be easy for once.

He missed the wicked glitter in those russet orbs.

"No," the blonde retorted as he reached down for the discarded magazine, "now go away, I want to rea-"

He was cut off suddenly as something slammed him backwards into the wall behind him. Porcelain colored hands grasped each tanned shoulder and cruel brown stared hungrily into startled lavender. Bakura licked his lips menacingly, his oddly sharp canines bared.

"I guess I'll have to _take_ my prize, then."

Along with being surprised, Marik couldn't help but feel rather disappointed. _Wrong again_. Seems he was right about one thing: there was no way he'd ever be able to predict his roommate.

Bakura roughly pushed Marik onto his back with a savage grin.

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**A/N: Alas, thats where it ends. Awful, huh? But smut DOES ensue and the ending is so mean and so...Bakura. Im just not sure of the logistics of ze lemon yet.**

**Let me know what you think about continuing it. And about the shorts :D**


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